


Tabula Rasa

by ItsMadness97



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Asgard (Marvel), Avenger Loki (Marvel), Character Death, Declarations Of Love, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Heavy Angst, Love Confessions, Memory Loss, Mild Smut, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Original Female Character, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Thor: The Dark World, Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Romance, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Tesseract (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-18 20:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsMadness97/pseuds/ItsMadness97
Summary: She doesn’t remember who she is, or where she's from, but she does dream of a man with emerald-green eyes--very erotic dreams, and she's beginning to believe they aren't just dreams anymore. AU. Takes place after Thor Ragnarok ... LokixOC love story





	1. Chapter 1

_I had a dream about him again._

_ It must have been late in the night when he came to me. I was dressed in a sleeping gown with my hair undone, sitting in a window sill. The bedroom wasn't my own; it was far more beautiful and grand— the kind that came out of a fairy tale._

_ The window had been left open and, as the midnight breeze brushed against my skin, he came and took my hand from behind, turning me towards him. The way he had looked at me was so earnest, so loving– the way every girl dreams for a man to look at her. I tilted my head towards him and his head immediately bowed down, capturing my lips in a kiss._

_ Within a moment later I was laying with my back to the bed and bare to him as he was me. He crawled over top of me, his eye contact never faltering and I could feel how much he wanted me as he brushed against my thigh. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I urged him on and he complied. As he rode me, I could barely control my voice at the combining sensations. I vividly remember looking up into his eyes all the while and became even more breathless at what I saw. His hair was freely flowing and framing his face elegantly as he looked down at me with his beautiful, green eyes; I was in complete awe._

_ It did not take long until his movements became less coordinated, less perfect, as he began to lose himself with me. An instant later and we reached our ends together. It would have been perfect if only I could still be there right now._

_ It's silly really, how he keeps showing up in my dreams- and always the same man. Black long hair, pale skin, and piercing green eyes. I often wonder if he's real. If he was, I know I would recognize him in an instant. My dreams seem so real when I'm in them, and when I wake up I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, and his voice in my ear._

_ "Mine," he would often say, low and whispered._

_ I would always smile back to him and respond, "Yours."_

_ He would always be pleased by that._

_~_

She stopped her pen. She had been recording her dreams in this journal ever since the incident. Her therapist told her that her dreams may help her to remember her past. Sometimes, her theorpist said, memories can return in the form of dreams. But recently her dreams were just plain baffling.

It started shortly after the incident with increasing detail as time progressed. When she first had one, she felt ashamed at the vulgarness of it. But the more she had them, the more curious she became of them. The man in them was always the same. She did not recognize him from anywhere else, nor did she know his name. But his face lingered in her mind vividly.

She stared absently at the window, sifting through other dreams she had of him. He was her lover existing only within her mind, yet what she could not comprehend, is where he came from. He had too many distinct qualities that she simply could not have made up, like his long, jet black hair that framed his face giving him the look of a mad man; and the way he appeared out thin air, beckoning her to come with him; or the scars on his torso with origins she did not understand. Every detail she could remember as though it had been carved within her mind. But how could she have dreamed of man of whom she never met with such clarity?

She stole a glance at the clock. It showed 8:07AM. She had an early appointment with her therapist at half-past on the first Tuesday of every month, and she was never late. Grabbing her apartment keys, she made for the door. It was not far by any means, but seeing as she had no car, she would walk there as she walked everywhere she needed.

The walk was exactly how you'd expect a stroll through New York City to be. Her ears rang with traffic noises, her nose was filled with the scent of fresh baked bread wafting from the local bakery set up for the day ahead, and the air was bitter against her pale skin. It was going to be winter soon, and she hadn't broken out her winter coat yet.

When she reached the small building, she walked over to the sliding glass doors and allowed herself through, thanking the heavens that it was warmer inside. After signing in on the clipboard, she was greeted instantly by her therapist, a very tall and skinny woman named Emily. "Good morning, dear. I'm ready for you if you want to head on over to my room," Emily spoke, smiling warmly to her.

As she followed her back, Emily questioned the girl, "Are you still going by Rose?"

"When I must," she replied glumly. She didn't like going by the name when she knew it wasn't her own. When she woke in the hospital, the older couple who found her after the incident left pink roses by her bedside. She remembered how devastated she became upon realizing they were the only gift left for her because no one else had ever came for her. Later on, when the nurse asked what she wanted to go by since she hadn't any form of identification, she said the first thing that came to her mind which was Rose.

"I think Rose is a lovely name," Emily replied sitting down at her chair, crossing her legs. Rose sat on the sofa opposite. "So what's on your mind today?"

"I'm still trying to find myself I guess," she supplied dismally and nearly methodically.

"Any news of your past?"

"No, I haven't heard anything."

Emily gave her a pitiful look, "Have you been able to meet new people?"

"Yes. Well I mean, I have Candace of course."

Rose had known Candace from the beginning. It had been during her second week at the hospital, and Candace was brought in after being in a three car pile up. She came out of it with a broken arm and some stitches, but nothing longterm. Not like Rose.

"And James, I think he still wants to be more, but that's not–" Rose took a breath, "I just do not feel as though it's my decision to make. I mean, what if the other girl had someone of her own?"

Emily sighed and laid her flowered clip board down on the end table. She may have not been much older than Rose, but the look she gave her was the look a concerned mother would give her daughter. "That may be true, my dear, but you've been out and about for over a year now. Don't you think if there was someone, they would have came for you by now?"

"I just find it hard to believe that I would have no one," she said, letting a little frustration seep though her voice. "No family, no friends, not even a single person who cares enough to tell me what my name is."

"Maybe it's time to begin fresh and not worry about the _other girl_ or anyone she might have been acquainted with," Emily offered. "Begin making memories of your own, maybe with James."

Rose sighed. "Perhaps... I just wish I knew _something_ about my past."

"I understand you are frustrated as anyone in your situation would be. But you may have to accept the possibility that the person you're looking for isn't out there. You don't deserve to spend your life waiting around for someone to show you what kind of person you are. That's something you can find out for yourself."

Rose dropped her gaze, not liking the truth of her words. To believe them would be to strip away the only hope she had been clinging onto all this time. That maybe _he_ wasn't out there.

"Yeah, I suppose..." Rose was mindlessly looking out the window. Just like the dream she had that morning when she was simply gazing out the window right before he came to her and...

"What are you thinking about, Rose?" Emily's soft voice spoke after a few quiet moments.

She drew her gaze back towards Emily, a faint blush on her cheeks, and shifted forwards in her seat. "Do you remember those dreams I mentioned to you about a couple weeks ago?"

"Ah, yes. You were dreaming of a man with green eyes?"

She nodded her head.

"What can you tell me about them?"

"Well they've been occurring a lot lately, and I'm not sure what to make of them."

"How often are you having them?" Emily asked.

"Nearly every night."

"Can you explain them to me or tell me why they concern you more than other dreams?"

"Well, when I dream about him, everything is incredibly clear– it's unlike any dream I've ever experienced. His face I can picture perfectly and his voice too. In fact, I drew I picture of him," she began shuffling through her bag. She then pulled the paper out and handed it to Emily, "Here."

Emily took the drawing and looked down at it, and her eyes seemed to widen slightly at the sight of it before narrowing back to normal.

"Do you think it could mean something? That he's out there? Or that he's coming? I know some people believe dreams are messages, premonitions even. If it weren't for the nature of these dreams I wouldn't think anything of it, but–"

Emily met Rose's hopeful gaze with sympathy. "Rose," she politely interrupted, her mood seeming to switch to a more serious tone.

The girl stopped talking, and looked to her therapist, the hope immediately trickling from her face.

"We have no way of knowing that your dreams mean anything. People have had suspicions in the past, yes, but that isn't based on any fact or proof. The likeness that your dreams hold that kind of significance is... unlikely. But as I've said before, our dreams are often based off past experiences we've had in our lives, so while they may not be an exact replication of a certain event, they will consist of certain parts of one which leads to the likeness that this man _was_ real and was someone you once knew."

"That doesn't explain why they've been occurring more often..."

"Reoccurring dreams can develop during periods of stress. Perhaps not being able to fit in or identify yourself may have caused a desire for companionship or familiarity and may be the source of their reoccurrence."

The hope in the girl's eyes flickered, nearly going out. Emily handed the paper back to her, and she mindlessly took it, before staring down at the man she drew with such precision, every detail of his face drawn exactly how she remembered...

"What should I do?"

"I would advise that you to stop drawing pictures or writing down anything about him. Try to keep your mind off him as much as you can and draw your focus on finding the people and things in your life that can make you happy." Emily handed back the paper.

She took it in her hands, staring down at the picture. "So I should just try to forget about him?"

"You don't have to forget about him. You just need to learn to live a life without him in the picture."

Emily's advice, as sound as it was, did not stop Rose from thinking about him long after she left from her appointment. If anything, she thought about him more, contemplating over and over in her head, the idea of moving on without him. But it proved to be far more difficult then she had ever anticipated. Even though she could barely list a thing about him, she felt like she knew everything about this man. He had to be real. He just had to be.

"Rose. Can you seat that person at the door?"

She blinked her eyes a few times, after zoning out again– this time at work. She had somehow managed to bag a job at the diner despite her lack of any and all information regarding herself. They seemed in awe from her story and she presumed she got it mostly by pity.

"Yes ma'am," she replied to her manager. She walked over to the counter, "Hello, welcome to Jerry's Diner. How many?"

"Three," the man replied. He stood next to a woman and a small boy. A wife and son.

"Alright," she said, staring at them. "Come right this way." She led the three of them to their table, requested their orders and was off again. She just wanted this day to be over. Her job, although she was very much grateful for it, was not career material. It was only meant to be temporary, until she could identify herself again, but she had been working for a whole year now. Perhaps Emily was right. The old her isn't coming back.

* * *

Emily clicked her mouse, her tired eyes staring unblinking at the glaring computer screen as she sat in her now dark office. She clicked it again, hoping what she was seeing wasn’t true. That the images were somehow in the wrong place. She even tried searching with different key words, just to be sure. But no matter what she did, the results remained the same. 

The drawing her client, Rose, showed her was an identical match to the man on the screen. The same man who came from another world bringing with him chaos and death. The man who led an alien army in attempt to take over the planet. A God.

** _Loki_ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've met our girl, now what's Loki been up to over the past year?

The wind tousled the long black hair off his shoulders, brushing against his sharp cheekbones and into the awfully dark hollows in his eyes. His pale green eyes stared unfocused in front of him, while his mind spun in circles again. And Again.

This was not supposed to happen. 

There were many exceptional events that Loki had witnessed in his notably long life– resurrections were not one of them. And if they were, fate certainly would not bestow it upon someone like him, with so little importance to the universe and all.

_You will never be a God._

The words still tasted fresh on his silvertongue. What came after was indeed unfortunate but _expected._ In fact, he welcomed the so-called glorious death on that day, knowing it was inevitable and so the words he had spoken to his dear brother were genuine.

_Odinson._

Loki never wanted it to be that way, but it was as it was and with limited time, he had to make due. He hoped Thor knew that. 

Loki blinked his eyes after realizing he was blankly staring at the barren rock before him while his mind had wandered yet again. He had been meditating, seeking to learn of his purpose –well trying anyways. All Loki could think is fate had made a terrible mistake; he should not be here... well, wherever here _was_ anyways.

At first he wondered if he had ended up in the halls of Valhalla, as if he'd had been so lucky! Instead his eyes opened again to the bleak glow of life, lying face down on cold, wet stone. Not greeted by a single being, he was left no explanation as to why or how. It just simply was. Fate always had an inconsiderable knack for ambiguity, and his unusual circumstances made no difference; he’d have to investigate himself. 

After some hiking and exploration, he discovered that he resided on a small planet, no bigger than an average moon. As far as he gathered, it was inhabited, filled mostly with rocky cliffs and glaciers which were beginning to melt from the band of rain that had permeated earlier. His innate element, one could say. There was no greenery, no wildlife. Just rock and slush.

And so he had spent the last few weeks seeking out answers, through means of meditation and physical investigation. He was still too weak to use his magic, and with no source of proper sustenance, he chose to meditate, drawing up as much energy as he could from this miserable planetoid he resided on. It was a slow process, but soon he would be strong enough. He nearly had enough strength to project himself beyond realms and therefore understand what had been happening since during his time... _away_. And most importantly, where in the nine realms he was.

Until then he would have to be patient with himself. His body was terribly weak and if he pushed it too hard, he could inflict permanent or life threatening damage upon it. Although death did seem like a desirable outcome, Loki thought in spite of himself, there was a reason he was no longer dead as fate wills it so. But the alternative was to live, and to live was a fickle and painful thing, wasn't it?


	3. Chapter 3

_I will not stop writing, not when I know he could be out there. He_ must _be._

_Last night I went to him in my dream. After running down dark corridors, I ran into what I presume to be his room. He had been seated in a chair reading a book, but when I barged in, he carelessly tossed it aside and came to me, hand outstretched, grinning mischievously, and ready to make me his._

_The rest was, well, how it always is. Passionate. One moment he's kissing me. The next he's tearing off my clothes, his lips trailing down my bare skin as if he can't get enough of me. Then his fingers were there, and then his mouth. I am shivering at the recollection._

_"You are mine," he whispered in my ear as I rode the aftershocks. He kissed me again, sweetly and urgently. I remember it being so good, yet it never actually... happened. Not in real life, anyways. When I woke up in my bed, I'm just frustrated like I always am, but not solely in the physical sense._

_What if he's not out there? What if I made him up?_

_He has been a light for me to cling to in all this. To know my life had something good before this incident. That I wasn't just a nobody. He gives me some form of identity. Some inkling of what my life may have been like. _

_To think that he doesn't exist is a thought I'd rather not consider. But if he is real, it means he has neglected me for over an entire year. And I don't know which option is worse._

With a reluctant sigh, Rose closed her journal shut with a snap and stood up to take a shower. It was her day off this week and she was going to meet her friend Candace for some coffee and afternoon shopping. Not that she could afford to buy much. She was barely able to pay for her apartment with the small waitress job that she had. But a coffee and some window shopping was in her price range.

As she washed, her mind lingered on her dream. She felt a strange tugging at her heart for this man, as if she somehow missed him. In fact, with every dream she had, the more her body craved him, and the more her heart longed to see him, to be near him. She shook her head, holding her face under the shower head; maybe she _was_ just lonely.

When she got out of the shower she looked at herself in the mirror. She ran her hand along her bare skin. Strange– there wasn't a single mark even though she could still feel some of his touches lingering on her skin. Not even a single blemish marked her except for one scar on her stomach and back. From the looks of it, it was an impalement injury, at least that's the doctor told her. It's too bad that it was unlikely she would ever know the full truth.

Sighing, she went and got dressed, putting on her favorite blue jeans and turtleneck sweater. She wore her hair naturally like she literally always did, but that was fine because it was quite beautiful on it’s own. It was long and strawberry-blonde with deeper reddish undertones and laid in messy waves upon her back– a hassle, really, especially on a windy day. She then began doing her make-up. She liked looking natural so she hardly put anything on.

She gave herself one last look over making sure everything was in order before she was heading out the door and walking towards the cafe to meet her friend.

* * *

“I’m so sorry!” Rose cried after bumping into a man, spilling his coffee all across his sweater. “Here, let me get you some napkins,” she said, hastily grabbing them from the counter and reaching over to dab them on his front.

“It’s alright,” he told her, his curly, light brown hair hanging slightly in his face as he took the napkins from her hands, looking slightly dazed. “Really.”

“Can I get you anything? I’m really sorry, I can buy you a new drink, if-"

“No thanks. It’s really alright,” he assured her again. He dabbed his sweater a few more times and then gave her a quiet “Thanks,” as he walked away.

She carried her own drink and sank onto the chair at the table. “I feel so badly.”

“He didn’t seem too upset,“ Candace said, sitting at the table across from her with a coffee in hand. ”Don't worry. It happens,” she added.

“Yeah, he was really polite.”

“Kinda cute for an older guy.”

“What’s with you and older guys??”

Candace shrugged. “I think they’re hot. Speaking of guys… are you still dreaming about your mystery lover?" she grinned, leaning forward in her seat. 

Rose blushed holding her earl grey tea to her mouth as her eyes shined mischievously, "I am." Besides her therapist, Candace was the only one who knew about the man of her dreams. It wasn't exactly casual table conversation, so she kept it mostly to herself.

"And you are sure you've never met him since everything?"

"I'm positive. My therapist mentioned once that dreams are based off past experiences. So I couldn't have made him up; I must have known him at one point in my life."

"That's interesting," Candace said, taking a swig of her coffee. "Know what I just realized? Maybe he never came for you because he was in the same incident as you and didn't..."

"...make it?" she finished and Candace nodded. “I've considered that too. But they would have found a body, wouldn't they? I was the only one there."

"That's what they want you to believe," she said, setting down her coffee before looking up hesitantly to her friend. "I still don't understand what happened to you, Rose."

"Neither do I," she replied after a sigh. The 'incident' was the word they often used to describe the night she lost her memory. They didn't really know what else to call it because the details surrounding the event were never fully disclosed.

"They really haven't told you anything?" Candace asked, referring to the government agents that blocked the entire site of the incident the moment they caught word of it. "I thought you were supposed to get more details once the officials investigated everything."

Rose shook her head. "No, nothing. And I have no idea what the proper number is to contact them. I've tired reaching out to the hospital, but the records of me are gone."

"Gone?" Candace's brown eyes looked at her friend with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Rose, that's really messed up. You need to go talk to someone, sue the hospital. Health records don't just _disappear_."

"What would I say?"

"You tell them what you told me."

"I could, but I just feel like... I mean it doesn't really matter at this point, does it? And I don’t really have the money to take legal action anyways."

"Whatever happened to you, someone out there has done everything in their power to make sure it was covered up. Don't you want to know?"

"I mean, yes. _Of course_ I want to know."

“You never know—” Leaning over the table, Candace gave a small shrug, as she traced her finger on the lid of her cup. "It could bring you closer to finding _him."_

Rose's gaze dropped down. "If there's even a him out there to find."

“I’m betting there is, why else would you dream about him so much?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because I'm lonely."

"Lonely, Rose– when did you start thinking that?" when Rose didn't answer right away, Candace sighed at her friend. "Did your therapist tell you that?"

"She told me I need to move on without him in the picture. Begin finding my own way."

Candace gave another sigh and reached forward to take her friends hand that had been fidgeting with her cup. "I think we need a girls night. It's been so long since we had an evening to ourselves, without the boys."

Rose sighed, granting her friend a relieved smile. "Can we watch that movie you told me I needed to watch? What was it called..Star Battle?"

“Starwars! And Yes! I literally still can’t believe you’ve never heard of it! When is your next evening off?”

“Um, I think Friday.”

“Oh, that won’t work. I already have plans to go out that evening with the guys. I know you don’t really like the bar scene.”

“I mean, that’s okay. I wouldn’t mind going out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I could use a night out.”

“Is it okay if James comes?"

Rose pursed her lips, glaring playfully at her friend. James was... well Rose didn't really know how to describe him, but he was a friend of Candace. He also, conveniently or inconveniently depending on the day, had his eye on Rose for quite sometime, now.

"Oh come on. He's so sweet and he really likes you, and it's not as though dream lover is gonna turn up anytime soon. Just give it another shot," she pleaded, setting her coffee on the table.

Rose did try with James before, although perhaps not very earnestly. One date they had, and it was admittedly a very nice evening. However, the moment he leaned in to kiss her an instinct within her clicked on and she retreated before he could reach her. She simply could not let him do it.

"You've been single since the accident. You more than deserve it to yourself." Candace pleaded again. "Please Rose?"

She sighed looking at her friend. Candace was nearly impossible to say no to when she really wanted something. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't want it for herself either.

“Fine, alright. You have my blessing to invite James,” she laughed. 

“Yes! I’m so excited! Friday is going to be the best!"

* * *

Parked across the street from the little cafe, was a black sedan. There were two men inside, watching the cafe from afar or more specifically, the girl with auburn hair. They had been keeping a watchful eye on her over the last week. 

The one in the passenger seat mumbled something incoherently.

"I really _love_ it when you talk with your mouth full," the playboy billionaire retorted.

His friend chewed for a few seconds, and then swallowed what appeared to be half a doughnut in one go.

"Do you really think she's the right girl?" Bruce asked again, reaching for a napkin to wipe his fingers clean. "I mean, shouldn't she be more... evil?"

"It's her," Tony said, pulling up her file on his smartwatch and then projected it into the air for them both to see. There was no mistaking it, the photograph matched girl in front of them exactly. 

"But she's just a girl.”

“Actually, if she is who we suspect, she’s probably centuries old."

“I know,” he agreed, swallowing another bite of his donut.

“And we don’t actually know if she and Reindeer Games are… associated,” Tony added, as he scrolled though her file.

“I don’t know Tony,” Bruce objected, pointing at a section of her file. “It’s says before she lost her memory, she asked for Loki."

“For all we know, he could have been the one who did this to her. Or Loki is someone else entirely, maybe even her dog. Without her memory, we can’t assume anything, but we have to prepare for anything.”

“Well we’ve been watching her for the past week, Tony. She hasn’t shown any signs of serial killer behavior. She just seems.. normal.”

“Yeah—“ Stark replied, his voice trailing off for a few moments. Then he moved, putting the car into gear. 

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the compound. We’re done here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot thickens... Sorry btw for the delay on this chapter! I can't promise a consistent posting schedule for this story, it's really just when I have time, but I can promise that the next chapter will be out tomorrow, so stay tunned. In the mean time, let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

_Crunch._

Loki looked down beneath his foot from where the sound came. But when he moved it out of the way, he wasn't sure if what he saw was a good thing, or a bad thing. 

It was a hand, eroded from time, a couple years at most would be his guess, but it was his first evidence of life. Loki knelt down in the rubble, wiping away the dirt with his hand to uncover more of the body, if there was one that is. It didn't take long until he unveiled a sleeve around the corpse's arm. He felt the material in his fingers; it was made of gold and silk...

Asgardian clothing. His curiosity spurred as he kept digging, uncovering more and more of the body until he discovered that it was a woman, a young Noble girl if he had to guess by the style of her dress. _What was an Asgardian woman of nobility doing out here?_

_Could it be the same reason Loki was here?_

Loki looked up with frantic eyes as he scanned the area, and that's when his eyes landed on it. Gleaming in a mound of sand, something was buried beneath. He rose from his feet, closing the distance to the shinning object with a few steps. He wiped his hand across the surface, and the dirt and sluge easily fell away.

Even though the paint and metal was rusted and weather worn, Loki knew what the wreckage once formed. He knew because the very fate of Asgard had depended on it in his last few moments. 

It was part of a refugee vessel. The same one, if he had to guess, used in effort to get the people of Asgard safe after Thanos had ambushed them**.** It must have crashed landed here after the attack. But there was something that wasn't quite right, and the thought made him pause. 

The wreckage was not fresh. He had judged that the Asgardian woman he found had been decaying for a year maybe two. But if the ship crashed here over a year ago, surely that also meant...

Loki had been dead for a _while_.

Thoughts and questions raced in his head. But there was one that consistently repeated in his head over and over.

_Why him? _

He tired to uncover more, and that's when other bodies surfaced, still inside parts of the ship. Then Loki realized.

He was standing on a tomb. 

If he had even suspected at the time that Thanos had been there waiting for them, he would have turned the vessel around without a moments hesitation. In fact, he would have rather them stayed on Asgard with Hela than to face the horrors of the Mad Titan. In Asgard, at least they stood a chance, no matter how small it was. 

Instead he blindly allowed his people to go from one death and to another more dreadful then the first. One in which they had to watch helplessly while their loved ones were slain before them by the dark order. One where nothing anyone did even made a difference, not even Thor. 

He felt sick, to see what had become Asgard. He may had denied his guild with them for a time after discovering his true parentage, but he would have never wished this upon them. Not ever. Contrary to popular belief, he actually was quite fond of the Asgardian race and he did rule them for some time after all. They were the people that he grew up alongside, whom shaped his identity and his home. It was unfortunate that it had taken up to his lasts moments before he could finally accept that. 

Loki began backing away from the scene, unable to handle the pain and frustration of it anymore, but another painful thought made him pause. 

Loki's heart began to race as his thoughts collected. She had to be here. She _had _to. If this was... If this was where everyone ended up, then this is where she'd be.

He suddenly began digging around the site, not caring in the slightest if he destroyed anything in the process. He just needed to know, - as though his life depended on it. And in a way it did. If didn't find her, then there was still hope. He would dedicate his life searching for her. He would do it, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to, _for her._ But if he did discover that she was here, then... 

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest when he saw it. 

Hanging on a piece of the wreckage was a necklace. The very same one that he gave her in a once simpler life, now swaying in the breeze neglected. 

He took a few steps forward and dropped to his knees before it, blood trickling onto the ground from his hands as a result of clenching his fists too tightly. His vision blurred and he felt his breath moving in erratic movements. His heart heaved uncomfortably in his chest. This was it. The truth was there.

And for the first time since the Prince of Asgard had awoken from his death, he lost control. 

* * *

The necklace hung from the metal scraps, swaying in the breeze. Neglected by all except nature, yet it called to her. She wanted to touch it, in fact she reached out for it, trying to get her fingertips to touch, but it was just too far away. Eventually she tired of trying but still she watched it, appreciative of its elegance of fashion. It held a weight to it, where that emerald pendant lied, she was sure. She could not explain why. 

Then, out of the fog, a tall figure approached it. She could not make out who, but she knew the mysterious figure was aware of it's merit. He wanted it. And so he reached a pale hand forward in the direction of the pendant. When his hand made contact, darkness overcame. Noises, voices, all filled her head, speaking urgently yet many at once, and she couldn't make out any coherent words or sounds. But it all stopped as soon at it began, until only one voice spoke, barely above a whisper.

_Eira._

Worlds away, Rose shot up from her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Confused, she wiped them from her cheek and her face crinkled in confusion as she tried to reflect upon her dream. But with each waking moment, the memory of it faded rapidly from her memory, until she could scarcely recall it at all. 


	5. Chapter 5

She arrived at a nice bar in Greenwich that Candace had chosen at 6 o'clock as per requested, wearing a nice, but not too nice, long-sleeved, blue dress. When she walked inside, there was a live band and weekend crowds. She scanned the people there, and immediately found Candace's beach-wavy, brown hair and a few others sitting at the bar on the far left, James included. Rose took a breath, preparing herself for the night that would ensue.

As she made her way towards them, Candace was the first to notice.

"Rose darling!" she said with a bright smile. "You made it!"

Rose vaguely noticed James look over at her at the sound of Candace's greeting. Others were already there too: Eric -Candace's boyfriend and his brother, Liam. "I said I would, didn't I?" she said, placing her clutch on the wooden bar table in front of Candace.

"I was afraid you might change your mind," she said and then smiled warmly, "I'm glad you could come."

"Me too," she replied, returning a smile of her own.

"Hey Rose." It was James when she looked. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a maroon sweater that pleasantly brought out his hazel eyes. It looked good on him, she thought. "Have a seat," James stood up, offering her his chair with a hand gesture.

"Oh that's really not necessary."

"I insist," James told her.

She shrunk a little, flattered at his politeness but nonetheless, accepted his offer.

"Thank you," she told him sitting down in the bar stool, convincing herself already that she was going to turn over a new leaf tonight.

"Of course," he said, with a light smile. "Can I get you a drink?"

Rose hesitated. Ever since the incident, she had never indulged in any form of alcohol, for fear that it would demolish any chance she had of getting her memory back, and all of her friends had been respectful of her decision. But now, she was just tried of holding herself back. She needed to let go as she had told Candace earlier that week, and what better way to take that first step then with a drink?

"How about a Guinness?" She knew Candace always favored those.

James lifted his eyebrow at her. "Who are you and what have you done to my Rose?"

She giggled softly, amused at his surprise. "I'm still her. In fact, I think I'm finally ready to be her."

"Are you sure your not under the weather?" James lifted his hand and felt her forehead.

"Stop it," she laughed, batting his hand away. "I'm fine really. Now order me a drink."

James looked at her, amusement and bewilderment both displayed equally on his face, and then he turned his head in the direction of the menu on the wall. "What kind do you want? They have a few different kinds here."

"You choose for me," she said, not looking away from him.

"Are you sure?" She knew he was referring to her wanting a drink and not the fact she was letting him choose.

She nodded her head, grinning.

He grinned back. "Chocolate it is."

James had ordered the drink, adding it to his tab before she could even think to object, and after the whole group made a big deal about how Rose was ordering a drink, the bartender placed it in front of her to try. She learned very quickly that she did _not_ like guinness; the bitter after-taste lingering on her tongue too long for her liking. So James handed her his beer, some sort of pale ale, for her to try.

"_Bleuh,_" she said, a grimace on her face. "How do you guys drink this stuff?"

"Interesting," Eric, Candace's boyfriend, observed. "You still haven't developed your taste for beer yet."

"Developed?" she asked, still tasting the after flavor in her mouth. She handed her Guinness to Candace who happily accepted it.

"Yeah, beer is definitely an adaptive taste. Hardly anyone likes it the first time they try it," James replied.

"Maybe we should start her on wine," Candace offered, after taking a sip. "That's what I started on."

"They do sell wine here," James said.

Candace smiled at Rose. "Do you want to try a glass of wine Rose?"

She threw her hands up, "Uh–sure. Why not?"

She knew she might regret this another day, but it had just been such an emotional week. She wanted this. She wanted to move on.

_Right?_


	6. Chapter 6

Loki had merely intended to pick up the necklace to provide some semblance of comfort to himself, but instead the moment Loki's hand made contact with the pendent, he felt himself completely torn and stretched from reality. The sensation was much like being sent through the bifrost, although much less fluid. Light filled his vision as he fell through time and space, completely unaware of where he was hurtling towards. 

Loki didn't have to wait long to find out though. Seconds after, everything came to an abrupt halt, ending as quickly as it begun, and he felt himself collide face first into a hard, concrete surface, the necklace still clenched in his fingers. Grunting, he lifted his head off the ground to take in his surroundings. 

There were metal vehicles driving about on roads lit by artificial light, people walking about and talking on little devices, and feeble buildings that won't last more then a few centuries at most... he recognized his location instantly.

_Midgard._

Under any other circumstance Loki would have rolled his eyes, but considering how this was a major improvement to his previous residence, he sighed in relief. Midgard was at least inhabited by a moderately intelligent race and could potentially provide further clarity on what had been happening in his absence.

Ignoring the gaping mortals and smirking slightly at the ones cautiously scurrying away from him, he lifted himself up to a standing position, the necklace still wrapped around his hand. His smirk fell though when he fell off balance, stumbling into a mortal woman. He had forgotten how _weak_ he still was. Hurtling through space had done his body no favors either. 

"Are you okay?" the woman that Loki bumped into asked. 

Not paying her any attention until she spoke, he glanced down at her. She was young by Midgard's standards, appearing to have only just reached her womanhood. She had a friend of similar age standing beside her. 

Loki took a breath to prepare himself, but said nothing. He just stared back at them, contemplating how he could get the information he needed from them. 

"He's probably just drunk, com'on," the other girl said more quietly, nudging her friend to keep walking.

But as they began to walk away, Loki called out to them. "Wait–"

Although he was still weak, he weighed that he had exactly enough energy for this, and in the case that it failed, even in his weakened state, he was still much stronger then a mortal to defend himself. And so, when the girl he ran into turned back towards him, his hand shot towards her, yanking her against him and ignoring her friends shriek of surprise as he grabbed her. He then placed a hand on her head, and skimmed through her memories, until he saw a glimpse of what he desired. 

He pulled his hand away when he was satisfied, and watched as the mortal girl's eyes fluttered open once again. He waited until she was fully coherent, albeit alarmed and pulling away from him, to release her. He watched as she ran away from him, a small smirk breifly appearing on his face. He hadn't harmed her, he had simply stifled through her memories of approximately one year ago until he found the information that was useful to him. 

And what Loki discovered was not helpful in the least. 

* * *

Rose was drunk. She had only had two glasses of chardonnay and three... or was it four shots of gods only know what. As it turns out, remaining completely sober for a whole year in combination of her relatively slim stature, made for laughably low tolerance to alcohol. But her friends wasted no time catching up to her. 

It took them awhile to lessen their incredulity surrounding her suddenly nonexistent drinking restrictions. They had kept asking her through the night after every drink if she was sure, but after they themselves had had quite a few, they stopped asking so frequently, becoming a little too intoxicated themselves to remember. She even shared a few dances with James when he asked her to. Nothing scandalous but certainly nothing she would have done sober.

And it was... _fun_. Rose didn't think she had had this fun since... well, since before the incident surely. It was the first night she had not thought about the man from her dreams because for once, she felt happy. The alcohol may very well have something to do with that of course.

"You know, I haven't danced like that since my cousins wedding." James told her, after they had danced through three songs straight, laughing their hearts out as they did so.

She giggled, "It s'been awhile for me too. Who kneew I had suuch a," Rose stumbled on her words, "-a hidden passinn." She may have been a little more drunk then James.

"Yeah no kidding! You really know what you're doing."

"You're s'not so bad yourself, you know."

"Yeah, but I've practiced," he explained to her.

"Did you?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, you know," he shrugged, and she adored the slight blush appearing on his cheeks. "Like in the mirror."

She looked at him one second and that was all it took for both of them to bust out laughing. It turns out, being around James wasn't as bad as she had thought it would be, and as the night went on, it only served further prove to her new outlook on him. Maybe going on a date with him wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Hidden deep below the Avengers Compound within a highly secured containment cell, sat the man who was once biggest threat to Earth. They had captured him out of Greenwich Village successfully, no casualties and no complications. The entire outcome was very unexpected. 

The god of mischief didn’t even put up a fight, he simply surrendered himself. And the Avengers knew Loki could have easily taken them down if he so desired. The man was a god and they were mere mortals. While no one would never admit that outright in Loki’s presence, the fact remained true. The team sent to retrieve him should have been no match for him. Further investigation needed to be done. 

Sitting within an unbreachable, glass cage, Loki grinned at his new company. 

Tony stared at him long and hard before letting out a frustrated sigh. 

“What are you doing here, Loki?” 

“It’s good to see you too, Stark,” he replied with a grin that didn’t quite match his tired eyes. There was nothing in his cell save for a white bench to which he was seated on, leaning his back against the wall, too weak to do anything else.

“You’re not welcome here,” Tony seethed. “Or did you forget that you tried to, you know, _take over our planet?"_

“I have no more desire to be here then you do of me." 

“Then, why are you here?” 

When Loki didn’t answer, Tony impatiently urged again. “Well, Reindeer Games?"

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, lifting an eyebrow to look back up at Tony. 

“You don’t know?”

Loki did not respond, having nothing to add in return.

"You know, we put you in there as a courtesy. There are a lot of people that would be more than happy to put your Asgardian ass nine feet under. So let me ask you again. Why are you here, Loki?”

“If death is the alternative, by all means, Stark,” Loki held his hands out, gesturing his surrender. ”I’d much rather be dead than to be caged up here like an animal." 

A new voice spoke from across the room. “You give us the answers we need, and we may not have to do either.” 

Loki’s eyes met the red-haired assassin’s green ones as she walked into the room, arms crossed over her chest. 

"And if I don’t corporate, Agent Romanoff?”

“Luckily, we have something to help motivate you,” she replied with a small smile.

"Look we just wanna talk. You work with us, and tell us why you are here, and what you've done with the tesseract, prehaps we can come to an agreement on your sentence," Tony clapped his hands togther. "Don't make this hard."

"Unfortunately for you, both are questions I do not possess the answers to."

"Says the man known for his lies," said Natasha.

Loki shrugged. "Fair enough. I assume you have some... 'motiviation' for me then?" 

Tony lifted up his sleeve and looked down at his wrist band. "There is someone we've been keeping tabs on over the past year. I have a feeling you know exactly who she is.” Double tapping his bracelet, Tony instantly projected an image of a girl from his watch for the god to see. ”Recognize her?”

Loki revealed nothing as his eyes fell upon the photograph projected on the glass of his cage, lingering a few seconds before flickering back up to Tony and narrowing. Inside however, his heart was racing and his focus was spinning. _How did they know about her?_

“SHEILD discovered her on Earth a year ago last summer," Tony continued, hoping to spark some sort of reaction from him. _“Severely_ injured- stabbed straight through her abdomen. She lost her memory shortly after she was hospitalized, never got it back. But do you want to know the most interesting part? 

Loki didn’t humor him, but Tony continued anyways. “On her report, it says, ‘…patient has repeatedly requested for unknown person by the name of ‘Loki’. No contact information was obtained.' Wanna explain why that was?" 

This time Loki did give a barely palpable grin. “How am I to know why a girl whispered my name in a delirious state?” 

“The same reason SHIELD captured you across the street from her and her friends,” Natasha droned. 

Loki’s eyebrows rose slightly; he didn’t know that. When Loki arrived to Midgard, he didn’t spend much time investigating the area before SHIELD caught word of his arrival and appeared seemingly out of nowhere to take him in. Loki had assumed it was because they somehow traced the opening up of the bridge to their realm, but now he realized he gave them more much credit than they deserve. They were keeping an eye on _her_ and he just happened to suddenly show up via necklace. 

_The necklace…_ Had it intentionally transported Loki directly to her? Suddenly, the delicate chain felt like a heavy weight in his pocket, and Loki wondered briefly if it would have the power to perform multiple trips.

“And, if I’m not mistaken, she’s from Asgard, which means she’s one of yours,” Tony added.

“In the unlikeness that you haven't heard, I am not a part of the Asgardian race and their whereabouts do not concern me,” Loki snapped defensively, his good humor gone. 

“Then what _does_ concern you?" Tony snapped back.

Loki gave him a cold stare.

"Alright fine, not gonna talk?” Tony gave Natasha a proceeding gesture.

She lifted her hand to ear and began speaking through her microphone. “Bring the girl in. Subject is uncooperative.” 

“I wouldn’t waste your time,” Loki replied with an expression he hoped looked uninterested. "She means nothing to me.” The lie fell naturally from his lips.

“Then our interaction with her shouldn’t concern you,” Natasha retorted as she walked past his cell towards the way she entered.

“It does not,” Loki muttered weakly.

“We’ll see,” Tony told him before following shortly behind the Black Widow.


End file.
